


icarus is flying (towards an early grave)

by SeaEnemy



Category: Avatar: The Last Airbender
Genre: ???? - Freeform, ALL THE ANGST, Angst, Appa and zuko brotp, Bro you dont know how badly I wanted Aang to nerf them both, Character Study, Gen, Not really though, Ozai (Avatar) Being a Terrible Parent, Ozai (Avatar) is an Asshole, POV Zuko (Avatar), Zhao (Avatar) Is An Asshole, Zuko (Avatar) Angst, Zuko Needs a Hug, Zuko Needs a Nap, Zuko is an Awkward Turtleduck, and said "fuck it", and therapy, author sounds fake woke, but mostly a hug, let toph say fuck 2k19, like his entire existence is there to spite everyone, lmao I literally took canon, no beta we die like men, pls just let him sleep, she's just way too invested, theres just a shit ton of headcanons, zuko is full of spite
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-12-13
Updated: 2019-12-13
Packaged: 2021-02-27 01:27:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,305
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21779197
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SeaEnemy/pseuds/SeaEnemy
Summary: It still isn’t enough to convince the Sages, they do not believe he will last a week. He isn’t given a name because of this, they simply leave him in his mother’s arms with solemn expressions.No spark, they say, no spark in his eyes.Ursa takes their words with a grain of salt, holds her son close, and looks into his gold irises.His name is Zuko.(Zuko through the rise, the fall, and all the little moments in between)
Relationships: Azula & Zuko (Avatar), Iroh & Zuko (Avatar), Mai & Zuko (Avatar), The Gaang & Zuko (Avatar), Toph Beifong & Zuko, Ursa & Zuko (Avatar)
Comments: 11
Kudos: 344





	icarus is flying (towards an early grave)

**Author's Note:**

> AAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHH okay, okay, so hi, hello, if you are reading this fic thank you?? so much?? I've been working on this fic for a fair amount of time, mostly because I've been really stressed these past few weeks so this was like my own mini escape, but also because I love Zuko with a burning passion. And I'm not gonna lie he's smokin hot (lmao) but like, I'm a slut for a good character arc, especially if it's a redemption one (CoughBakugouCough) so that's why i'm lowkey obsessed with Zuko.
> 
> Anyways, I really love Zuko and I really wanted to write about him so here this is!!! Fair warning: I threw a shit ton of headcanons into this, so if some things don't make sense they're probably my headcanons. If anyone has questions about them or are confused I'd be happy to answer/explain them in the comments though!! Also, DISCLAIMER: I have read the comics, and while I liked them well enough, I don't necessarily like what they did with Zuko's lineage and stuff, so I don't really touch on it in this fic (if you're confused about what I'm talking about, go read the comics, they're good ;)) 
> 
> Now that I've got my rambling out of the way, I hope you enjoy!!
> 
> Edit: I've read through this chapter and tried to clean it up a little bit, so hopefully it's nicer!

  
Zuko is born in the dead of winter, when the fire Lilies aren’t in bloom.

Death is right on his heels.

//

It's silent when Zuko is born.

There are no wailing cries of new life, no happy cheers of excited midwives and family, and no sigh of relief from an exhausted mother. Everything is as silent as night around him. Silent heartbeat, silent body, silent breath. He is cold and quiet, born on a full moon, when Agni’s power is weakest.

 _Cursed_ the room at large whispers.

They were all bad signs for a firebender, a royal one no less. Despite this fact, Ursa starts to sob, refuses to accept him dead, begs that he be saved, and all the servants and midwives rush to bring the child back.

Everything falls back to silence then, as Ursa turns to glare up at the moon, tears spilling from her eyes. She has never truly trusted the spirits. They were indecisive, fickle things, messing with human lives as they pleased. But that night her eyes burned as she prayed to Agni, to anyone who would listen because she can’t lose her son, not when he hasn’t tasted freedom, not when he hasn’t felt the sun against his skin. Not like this. _Not yet._

The spirits do not listen. 

Closing in on 3 hours of trying, the midwives tell her it’s no use, that there is no hope of saving her child. 

In retribution Ursa starts cursing the spirits and Agni for thinking they can take her son, warnings of consequences buried beneath her sorrow and anger, eyes burning a molten gold. She takes her son away from the bumbling midwives when they give up and rocks him close. Ursa is no firebender, certainly holds no connection to Agni, but she pours all the warmth she can into her sons still body, rubs his chest in hopes of reviving his dead lungs because Ursa isn’t anything but stubborn. 

And despite all odds the small, brittle baby takes his first breath as the sun crawls over the horizon, the sky painted an eerie crimson in its wake. _Bad omen, bad omen_ they all whisper. Ursa doesn’t listen, her son is _alive_ and she will not lose him to anyone, spirits be damned.

It still isn’t enough to convince the Sages however, they do not believe he will last a week. He isn’t given a name because of this, they simply leave him in his mother’s arms with solemn expressions.

 _No spark,_ they say, _no spark in his eyes._

Ursa takes their words with a grain of salt, holds her son close, and looks into his gold irises. 

His name is Zuko.

  
  


//

  
  


Ozai stops by once, and only once.

He does it if only to keep up appearances, to be seen as the respectable, loving and kind fire nation prince he is said to be. Ursa thinks that maybe if he were, she could have actually loved him.

But when he sees his son for the first time he scoffs, and Ursa thinks _no, I could not_ because Ozai would never be those things.

She can still hope, though

“What a pitiful child,” Ozai murmurs when he comes to stand beside her, “The sages say he has no spark.”

Ursa just hums, her afterglow still bright in the noon sun. She is too happy to be holding her son in her arms, too warm to find it in herself to listen to her husband. 

She still has hope in her veins.

“His name is Zuko.”

Ozai scoffs again, this time laying a hand Ursas’ shoulder. It is heavy, tensed with strength and power, and she feels his eyes bore into her. She leans into his touch anyways, maneuvers herself so that he can see Zuko better.

“Really dear, _failure?_ It is quite fitting, but I never expected that from you of all people.” Ozai says in mock judgement. Ursa tenses, but doesn’t acknowledge what he’s said. 

“How long are you staying?” She says instead. Ozai hums noncommittally as he moves away, stature rising to a more formal one. 

“I must be going now, actually,” he straightens his robes as he reaches the door. He pauses for a moment, glances over his shoulder, and then opens the door with a harsh sigh.

“Goodbye, my love.”

Ursas’ only response is the door shutting loudly in front of her, but that’s all right. Everything is all right.

Zuko starts to fuss, his hummingbird heart rattling his ribcage as his cries quickly start to crescendo into wails. Ursa hurries to shush him, calm him as best she can, hums as loud as she dares. Zuko stops almost instantly, wide eyes staring up at his mother in wonder.

Ursa can’t help but laugh. 

The name Zuko can mean many things. Ozai had chosen to see the negative light behind the name, and so had many others in the palace, guffawing at the fact that Ursa had named her son _failure, surrender, anger, madness_. 

But when Ursa looks into her sons gold _gold_ eyes she only sees love, hope, and above all else, _harmony._

//

Zuko is two years old, and he’s going to be a big brother.

He doesn’t know what that means, doesn’t get all the big words that Mommy uses sometimes, but he knows Mommy’s tummy is huge and he’s going to have a little sister soon. He also doesn’t know what those words mean, but it sounds fun; being a big brother. Maybe he’ll be the best big brother ever! He’s sure that’d make Dad really happy.

He tells Mommy and Uncle and Lulu all about it when he gets the chance. He tells them he’s gonna go on adventures with his new little sister and how they can all join them and they’ll ride dragons and find treasure. Maybe even find the Avatar! 

They all laugh and say _that’s a wonderful idea, Zuko!_

Dad looks angry when Zuko talks about it, says _don’t speak about such nonsense, its belittling._

Zuko doesn’t know what belittling means, and when he asks Mommy she looks upset but tells him _do not worry about it._ She distracts him by asking him what his sister's name should be, let’s him look through the fire sages special book that has all these fancy names. After a while she asks him if they should name her after someone, because every name his Mommy lists off doesn’t sound right.

 _Who?_ He asks.

 _What about the Fire lord?_ She says.

 _Yeah, we should!_ He likes the idea, thinks his sister deserves a coolest name she can get, and grandpas is pretty cool. 

Mommy nods, still glancing through the special book, and says _it’s a wonderful idea._ He thinks it’s a little weird that only Uncle and Mommy and cousin Lulu say that to him and not Dad, but forgets about it when Mommy asks if he wants to go feed the turtle ducks.

Zuko is two years old when his sister is born in the middle of summer, the fire lilies in full bloom.

Her name is Azula.

//

  
  


Zuko is six, Azula is four, and it’s them against the world.

Or, more accurately speaking, it's them against the entirety of the Royal palace, which technically _is_ their world, but that’s not the point. The point is that it’s the two of them through thick and thin, because they’ve got royal responsibilities and firebending teachers breathing down their necks, Dads sharp eyes and booming voice, and barely any time to play anymore. 

But they get through it, somehow.

Azula takes to firebending like a turtle-duck to water, which helps in some ways. Zuko on the other hand is more of a drowning ostrich-horse, which _doesn’t_ help. Azula thinks the reason he sucks at bending is because he gets sick all the time, or he’s just plain old weak. Zuko thinks she’s just jealous that he gets better scores on his study papers, and ignores the ringing in his ears. 

Dad _really_ likes to yell.

He doesn’t know why he gets sick all the time, and it makes him angry because no one else gets sick as much as he does. Or at least as far as he can tell. Mom is always there though with soothing hands and calm words, tells him _do not worry about it_. He also doesn’t know why he sucks at firebending. Of course, he didn’t start bending until he was five, which is kind of late for a bender, and even before that he didn’t start walking until he was _two,_ so maybe that has to do with it. 

Maybe he’s always meant to be a late bloomer. 

Mom just laughs quietly whenever he tells her this bitterly, says that _the first time you walked you ran,_ and he feels like there is a deeper meaning there but doesn’t have the patience to see it. 

He just wishes he didn’t suck at firebending.

It’s okay though because Azula isn’t that good at reading, so he helps her when she starts to fall behind in studies, and if he’s having trouble with a certain stance she pushes and pulls his limbs until they’re in the right positions and then cheers _good job, Zuzu!_ because it’s just the two of them in this big palace, and they both don’t like it when Dad yells.

Zuko and Azula. Azula and Zuko. 

The two of them against the world.

//

Azula is eight, and she’s conquered the world. 

Zuko is barely ten, and watches everything go up in flames.

 _No,_ he doesn’t mean the literal world. If that was actually the case he would be slightly concerned about the state of ruling in the Fire Nation, but he’s sure Azula could do it if she really wanted to. She has every servant, guard, and noble wrapped around her little fingers to the point where he’d think it’d be impossible to escape. Trapped in a web that’s tangled and twisted with gossip and sweet smiles because Azula is Azula and Azula-

_Azula always lies._

He doesn’t know when this became a fact instead of childish resentment borne on the notion of her _always_ being better. He doesn’t know when his sisters bright, honeycomb eyes turned a polluted brown. He doesn’t know when her body had shifted to better fit the monster that was growing underneath her skin. 

But it happened, and now the world is caught and is burning and he’s also caught but maybe, _maybe_ Azula still loves him deep down because he isn’t burning just yet.

//

Somewhere between all the fire and lies Uncle and Lu Ten leave for the war, promises of doing good for their great nation on their lips. 

The webs only seem to get thicker after that, Azula’s eyes getting darker along the way. There’s something lurking there, just beyond her eyes.

His father yells more and more everyday, the memory of a warm hand on his should fading fast. He doesn’t think he’s seen his father this angry before.

The world feels like it’s drowning in a blaze.

//

  
  


Azula is Azula and Azula always lies, but Mom is there and she somehow snips away all the tangled threads and holds them close, pats out the flames that Azula lights with glee. Azula is Azula but she hasn’t burned him to a husk like the bushes in the garden, no matter how many times she chases him with smoking hands and blisters his skin.

Azula is azula but she’s still his little sister and that means he’s got to be the best big brother he can be. Even when her eyes go dark and she burns all of Moms Fire Lilies. Even when the monster under her skin grows.

He promised he would.

//

Uncle keeps sending them letters and gifts, mostly full of terrible jokes and grossly abundant love. Even if he doesn’t say it in his letters It’s pretty obvious in the gifts he sends.

A knife for Zuko, a doll for Azula.

Azula lights the dolls head on fire.

Her eyes in the firelight look almost black, and he can’t help but frown. Mom gives a half-hearted glare as she goes on to say how if Uncle died Father would get the throne, making _him_ Fire Lord. Mom scolds her, tells her she shouldn’t say such things and that it would be terrible if Lu Ten or Uncle never made it back. He doesn’t say anything when Azula fake pouts, a mask of innocence falling over her face. 

Somewhere down the hall he hears his father yelling.

Azula has the world conquered, Fathers anger grows, and Lu Ten and Uncle are sieging Ba Sing Se. 

Maybe when they come back, the world won’t be burning as much.

//

Lu Ten is dead. 

Lu Ten is dead, and the world is burnt to a crisp.

Zuko knows death, has known it since he was born. After all, it’s no secret that the first born son of Prince Ozai shouldn’t be here, alive and breathing. _Lucky to be born,_ echoes through the halls when no one thinks he’s listening. 

It’s still a shock to his system, when Mom tells them in the garden, eyes wet and downcast. He bites his lip to keep himself from crying, Azula watching on in mild disinterest. She’d always said he was too emotional for his own good.

Uncle hasn’t returned yet, and no one knows when he will, but he knows when he does he deserves the biggest hug he can get. He’ll get Azula to join too, because as big as the monster is underneath her skin, she’s still got to have some of herself left, right? 

Right?

 _No, she doesn’t,_ he thinks when they’re in front of grandfather- _the Fire Lord_ and Azula does everything right and he does everything wrong. _No, she doesn’t_ he thinks when she badgers him into spying on the Fire Lord and their father speak, his cruel insinuation that Uncle shouldn’t rule without an heir, that he isn’t _fit_ to ringing in his ears. 

_No, she doesn’t_ he thinks when she comes skipping into his room, singing bittersweet truths that are too harsh to face.

_“Dads gonna kill you! No really, he is!”_

Death is lingering lingering _lingering_. 

Lu Ten is dead. 

Azula is dead, and a monster has taken her place.

And later on in the early morning, after Zuko has chanted _azula always lies_ into his sleep, Mom wakes him. She wakes him with a gentle shake and a hug, tells him _everything I’ve done, I’ve done to protect you._ And then she is moving, pulling him back but still holding on and the sky is painted a crimson red, covering her face in shadows. 

_No matter how things may seem to change, never forget who you are._

And then she’s gone. She is gone and dead because death is lingering lingering _lingering._

The Fire lord is dead.

Uncle is hollowed out and dead.

The Fire lilies in the garden are crushed and dead.

The monster that had killed Azula and taken her place _thrives_ , and so does his Father because now _he_ is Fire Lord and the monster underneath his skin had taken his place a long time ago.

And sometimesZuko wonders, surrounded by this dead and scorched world, if the monster underneath his skin will get him before death does.

  
  


//

Zuko is thirteen years old, and death gets him first. 

Or tries to, at least.

There is searing pain everywhere, half formed apologies still spilling from his mouth. His father- no, the _monster-_ is still leering over him, large hand pressing his face down and down until there is only fire and smoke and _pain_.

Out of the corner of his eye, he sees Azula. Azula with her cold polluted eyes and red painted lips pulled into a jarring smirk. Azula is _gone_ he remembers vaguely through the blinding pain, there is only the shell of herself, a monster not unlike the one above him sitting pretty in her skin. He’s been staring at her long enough that she’s beginning to blur, to distort out of his vision, tears making tracks down his cheek. 

He still sees the way her eyes alight with something sinister when he chokes out another scream.

And Uncle is there too, his eyes shut tight and head turned away. Uncle is there and isn’t looking because its all Zuko's fault and now he’s being forced to watch it all unfold. He wants to apologize to Uncle, apologize and hug him and tell him he’s so _so sorry-!_

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry I’m sorryimsorryimsorry- I won’t do it again!”

Uncles eyes snap open, and he looks at Zuko dead on, something sparking in his sad, sad eyes. Zuko doesn’t think he’s seen anything in those eyes, not since Lu Ten died. But now they’re glittering with tears, and dark and sad, and Azula is cackling like a wild hog monkey-

“I promise! Please, please pleaseplease **please** -“

and Father is yelling, _yelling_ and Mom is gone and there’s no one to stop this because it’s his fault, he should have never spoken out of turn-

“I won’t, I won’t do it again! I swear, I swearisweari-! I swear it on my honor!”

And now he’s being punished and Uncle is sad and hollowed out and dead _-_

“You have no honor _left_.”

As suddenly as it came, the pain is gone. His father stands above him, shadowed by Agni, a great halo around his head. And Zuko can’t stop crying now, not when he can’t feel the side of his face, not when his heart feels like it’s in his throat and stomach in his lungs. 

_You will learn respect, and suffering will be your teacher._

He’ll never forget the smell of burning flesh.

There’s a roaring applause around him, so deafening he can barely hear his own heart, and the world starts to gray around the edges. He feels like he’s floating, arms and legs heavy and uncooperative. The side of his face throbs in time with his heartbeat, and he cant see out of his left eye. Father leaves at some point, leaves him to stare up at the late afternoon sky, Agni beating down against him. It’s weird, he thinks hazedly, that the sky is painted a crimson red. 

Just like the day Mom left.

“-ko-! Zu- o! **Zuko!** ”

Then Uncle is suddenly there, kneeling over him with his face shadowed and Agni setting behind him. His eyes are still sad, and Zuko can just barely make out the wet tracks settling on his cheeks. But there’s a spark there, somewhere in his dark brown eyes. It glints a promise, a truth, and they’re nothing like Azulas’ dark coal brown, or Fathers hollow amber. They remind him of his Moms, warm and soft and _sad._ But the only reason Uncle is so sad is because of him and his stupid mouth. He deserves this, deserves to be alone, deserves the throbbing pain surrounding his face, deserves the blood that drips past his chin and down into the hollow of his throat. He deserves it, he deserves it, he deserves-

“It’s all right Zuko. Im here, I’m here, it's all right.”

The world is going dark, and Uncle holds him close. His body screams in protest, face ice cold and burning at the same time. But Uncle is there and Uncle is holding him and Zuko still hasn’t stopped crying because it _hurts_ and he can’t remember the last time he was hugged (he does, he does because it was in the early morning and Mom was speaking, whispering in his ear and she was holding him and then she was gone and dead-) 

So he lets Uncle hold him, let’s him pick him up and move him and take him away, because he’s tired and the world is fading. 

“Hang on, Zuko. Hang on just a little while longer.”

He looks up through a haze of tears and exhaustion, and thinks, just for his Uncle, he’ll try.

He owes Uncle that much.

// 

  
  


When Zuko wakes up, it’s dark, and Uncle is gone.

He can barely move, doesn’t think he could even if he tried. His body feels like an anchor and for one, single, horrifying moment he can’t breath. For one moment he feels like he’s trapped at the bottom of the sea and his body is being held down by crashing waves and the moon is wavering above his head, mocking him. 

But then he sees the candle sitting on the table next to him, and flinches so hard he nearly rolls off the bed. 

Everything comes back to him in a swirl of pain and fire, and he sucks in a breath so big it hurts his lungs. Carefully, he shifts until his hand is by his face, and twitches his fingers so they ghost over the bandage that covers his eye. And Zuko feels _sick_ , thinking about what his face must look like now, skin blistered and bleeding and an angry red. He thinks about the way his skin must have curdled under his Fathers’ hand, how his blood dripped from his face to dirty the floor under him. 

How he’s _lucky_ to be alive.

But it’s his fault, isn’t it? He’s the one who spoke when he wasn’t supposed to, even when he promised Uncle. He’s the one who disrespected his father, _he’s_ the one who didn’t fight back because he’s a coward. A disgrace. 

**_You have no honor left._ **

Anger isn’t something new to Zuko, he’s always been easily frustrated, quick to snap if something was bothering him or didn’t make sense. But this? This anger feels hollow, and sad, yet consuming. It feels like a wildfire, something that takes and takes and has no direction. His fists are sparking, and silent tears are leaking from one side of his face.

He’s so _angry_ , angry at himself and at the world and the spirits and Agni. He’s angry at Mom for leaving and his father for not loving him and Azula for what she’s become. He’s angry because he doesn't know what else to feel.

Zuko knows anger, but he knows fear even better. 

“Hey Zuzu, pretty nasty bandage you got there.”

Azula is striding through his door like she always does, and the air is suddenly hard to breath. She skips over to the edge of the bed and plops down like she used to do when they were younger and she’d ask him to tell her a bedtime story, Fathers’ yelling echoing in her dreams. But Azula isn’t Azula anymore, she’s all sharp smiles and dark coal eyes. She’s whispered secrets behind hands and cackling laughs echoing beyond his door. 

She’s a predator waiting to strike, and Zuko is her prey.

“Come on Zuzu, don’t pretend that you didn’t know this was going to happen. Dad never liked you anyways.”

He wants to say something, anything, but his body won’t cooperate and his mouth won’t form words. He _can’t,_ he realises in desperate horror, and that’s scarier than anything because he could never keep up with Azula, least of all with words, but at least he was able to do _something_. Now he’s just a pig-sheep waiting for the slaughter, waiting to be butchered by half truths and bittersweet reality-

“Zuko.”

He startles out of his fear to look up into his sister's eyes, dark coals boring into gold. Azula hasn’t called him that in _years_ , only calls him that stupid childhood nickname because she knows it annoys him, because she always wants to get under his skin. She likes it when she gets a rise out of him because anger makes you irrational and easier to control, because it’s easier for _her_ to take control-

“Hey, _Zuko_ ,” he blinks, and suddenly she’s grabbing his hand, squeezing it hard and tight. 

He flinches and tries to pull away, because years of blistered skin and bruises has taught him that when Azula usually grabs something she intends to cause harm. But no fire or heat comes, and her hold is tight but it isn’t bruising. She is silent, face shadowed and hair down, nails digging into his hand. 

There’s of vase of wilting fire lilies on the table behind her.

“You really are stupid,” she whispers, and then there is something sharp and cold pressed into his hand and she is getting up and moving, turning towards the door. He doesn’t even have a chance to be angry at her insult. Instead he looks down, catching sight of a knife- _his_ knife, the one Uncle gave him- glinting in the moonlight, mouth going dry and a million questions wanting to spill from his lips.

“Dad almost found it,” she says in lieu of his confused frown, and then her sharp red smile is back in place and she turns away, slips through the crack in his door and into the night. For some reason it feels like the day Mom left, unfamiliar and yet all the same.

It feels like a goodbye.

(Zuko is thirteen years old when he escapes death, and thirteen years old when he’s banished, brought before his own father who tells him the only way he can regain his honor is if he captures the _Avatar_ , who hasn’t been seen in almost a hundred years.

Zuko is thirteen years old when Uncle meets him by the docks with a shotty ship and half assed crew, saying that he’s coming with. Saying it’d be nice to spend some time with his favorite nephew.

Zuko is thirteen years old and all alone in his new room, anger festering and growing as he makes a promise, staring up at the waning moon.

**_Never give up without a fight_** )

**Author's Note:**

> Again, thank you so much for reading if you made it to the end! Comments, especially constructive criticism, are greatly appreciated!
> 
> Also I want to apologize for the excessive use of italics, I feel the need to put emphasis on literally everything. Also for all the comas. It's a problem.


End file.
